Learning To Fly: A Saki Enomoto Pseudo-Route

Countdown :: A Spoonful Of Sugar

In some small way, it's comforting I'm not alone in trying to settle in to a new home.

My first pet, the goldfish Saki gave to me yesterday, is swimming madly around his new bowl. He's learned to rear up the second before he hits the glass, but he's still wary about getting near the pink plastic plant and pirate treasure chest anchored in the pink gravel at the bottom.

True to her word, Saki met me after class today. I had waited by my classroom door and she came wandering up with a plastic bag bulging at the sides. I could see there was obviously a bowl inside, but I didn't realize how much other stuff was involved in keeping a simple goldfish.

Saki had pulled me aside and very quickly went over all I needed to do, her eyes darting around looking for Mutou or any other staff that may have been close enough to hear. I remembered just enough of it by the time I got back to my room to figure out what I either didn't know or forgot.

My gaze shifts to the items on the desk next to the bowl. One small bottle of water additive. I added a capful to the bowl after I filled it and waited half an hour, per the instructions. Another small carton holds multicolored fish food. I take it and give it a gentle shake over the mouth of the bowl, causing a few flakes to settle on the surface of the water. He swims up to the surface and greedily goes after one a bit too large, tearing a chunk off and causing it to start to sink.

He? Come to think of it, I don't know why I automatically assumed the fish was a he. I mean, how can you even tell?

He stops swimming for a second and seems to stare straight at me, his gills pumping and fins motoring to hover in place. His head turns slightly from side to side, his large eyes scrutinizing me.

Eh, I have a 50/50 chance of getting it right. It's not like many people are going to know about this fish. And it's not like those who do will know enough to tell the difference, either.

I should probably give him a name at some point. What's a good name for a goldfish?

With a stretch, my mouth opens in an involuntary yawn. I idly scratch at the back of my head, looking at the clock and pondering my options for the rest of the day. I don't have much classwork to do, seeing as how most of the teachers today were in the same shape as Mutou and the rest of the class. Maybe I should go down into town to become familiar with it. I only vaguely remember it from driving up the hill to Yamaku with my parents, and it can't be too far away if Saki manages the trip with her cane. Then again, even if it was difficult for her, I doubt she would let it show...

Maybe I should just go to bed early. Go to the library, find a book or two, come back and get a nice hot shower, and read for a while before catching up on sleep. Get a fresh start tomorrow.

Thinking of sleep reminds me of what Mutou said to me earlier today, about Nurse wanting to see me. I might as well get it out of the way. Nurse has been friendly, and I can tell he genuinely wants to help, but I get the distinct impression that he's not someone I want to start dodging.

-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-

I rap my knuckes on the door a few times before opening it a crack. "Hello...?"

Nurse's pleasant tone is muffled by the obstruction. "Come on in!"

I open the door fully and step inside. Nurse is seated in his chair, the contents of a folder spread out in front of him on his desk. He swivels in his chair towards me and makes eye contact.

"Ah, Hisao Nakai," he says by way of greeting. "Please, come in and have a seat. Give me just a second..."

I awkwardly make my way over to the chair across from him, and sit down. It doesn't matter how often these types of meetings take place; I always feel like I'm in some sort of trouble.

Nurse hastily puts everything back into the manilla folder, standing up and moving to a filing cabinet near his desk. A few seconds later, he's replaced the folder in his hand with another one. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I catch just enough kanji on the front to see that he now has my file in hand.

"Thanks for coming by," Nurse mentions, sitting down and opening the file on his lap. "I see Mutou passed on my message?"

"Y...Yeah," I answer, that uneasy feeling more present than ever.

"I'm glad you came here on your own. Otherwise I thought I'd have to send Emi to knock you out and drag you in," he responds with his trademark grin. "Don't worry, you're not in trouble or anything. I just wanted to go over what happened at the track in a bit more detail, now that it's been a few days." He takes a few sheets of paper and attaches them to a clipboard, grabbing the pen from behind his ear. "So," he asks, "Let's start with the basics. How are you feeling?"

"Not too bad," I say, trying to relax a little bit.

"Sources tell me you were out at the festival yesterday," he says. "How did that go?"

"Sources?" I blurt out. "You have sources?"

Nurse smiles. "Well, if you must know, I was a few people behind you in line when you were getting food. 'Sources' sounds so much more mysterious, though."

I shake my head and answer his question, but not before giving an exasperated sigh. "It went really well. I woke up a little late so I didn't see it when it first started, but I made it down and stayed until after the fireworks."

"Did you have a good time?"

"I did. It was a pretty good way to end my first week here."

"Good...good," he says, nodding and grinning. "Off the record here, but I always like to hope people make the transition here as smoothly as possible. I'm not going to drone on with a bunch of boring speeches about how important it is to get back on the wagon and fit in, because I know you've probably heard them a thousand times already. I'm just glad to hear you had fun. That's a lot better than most transfers do their first week."

The earnestness in which he says that, combined with that disarming smile, finally causes me to drop my guard a bit. Most of the doctors in my life the last few months have been fairly...impersonal. And those that have tried to take an interest in my well being seem to have no problem making the transition from telling me what I need to be doing medically to telling me what I should be doing in my personal life, such as it is. Smile, feel good, be happy I'm alive...all that stuff.

I only encountered it a small number of times in middle school, but there were a few teachers that legitimately cared about their students compared to the many that were simply there collecting a paycheck.

Here at Yamaku though, it's different. Every faculty member I've met so far, from Mutou to Yuuko to Nurse and everyone else, do seem to actually care. When one of them asks me how I'm doing, I get the distinct impression that not only are they asking because of the subject at hand, but they're also concerned about my well-being on a personal level.

"Thanks," I answer, giving a weak grin of my own.

"So, that being said," he says, twirling his pen idly in his fingers and glancing at the clipboard, "here comes the unpleasant part that nobody really enjoys when they talk to me."

I knew it. I groan.

"Hey, don't be like that. You're not here to be harped on, well, much, anyway. I promise I'll have you out of here in a few minutes."

I nod. "Sorry."

"No offense taken. Everyone's a little tired and cranky after the festival. Speaking of which, I wanted to ask you how it went. I know you said you had fun, but I was wondering if you had any problems handling it from a physical aspect. Any chest pains, shortness of breath, that kind of thing?" Nurse asks, his pen poised to write down anything I might say to answer that question.

"I walked around a bunch, but I didn't have any problems with it." If anything, I'm surprised I didn't have any problems helping put together that stage. Some of those pipes were damned heavy.

He makes a note on his paper. "So besides what happened running on the track earlier this week, you haven't had any other issues?"

"No, none."

He makes another note. "Good," he says. "Coming out of a long, sedentary hospital stay is always a bit tricky. You never quite know how long it can take to adjust to being physically active again. And you seem to have been dropped in during one of the busiest weeks for students. How are your medications now that you're no longer chained to a bed? Any side effects or problems there?"

I'm glad he brought it up, because I wasn't quite sure how to ease into it. "Well, there is one thing I wanted to ask about," I answer. "I'm having some insomnia and I'm not sure if it's just from adjusting to everything going on, or if it's because of my medication..."

"Hmmm," Nurse replies thoughtfully, tapping his upper lip with the tip of his finger. "Either one of those could definitely be the culprit."

Thanks. That's really helpful.

"I was wondering if there was anything else I could be doing," I explain. "Maybe eat or drink something. I had thought about maybe taking a sleeping pill, but I thought it would probably be best to ask you about it first..."

"I'm glad you did," he says approvingly. "Bad things can happen when someone tries to self-medicate," he elaborates with another wink. "How bad is it?"

"It's been getting worse throughout the week. I've been waking up earlier and earlier and I can't seem to go back to sleep, even when I know I can get another hour or two."

"Never been an early riser?"

I shake my head.

Nurse makes another noncommittal noise, putting the pen behind his ear and flipping through the sheets on the clipboard once more. I see his eyes skimming the papers, stopping occasionally when they find whatever he's looking for. A few moments go by, a frown pulling down the corners of his mouth as he turns a few things over in his head.

"Well, this puts us in a bit of a quandary, Hisao. A low dosage sleeping pill might help, but that brings up some other problems."

"Go on," I say. I'm not sure I like where he's going with this.

"Adding another medication to the list of pills you're already taking could cause issues, especially with the side effects that could pop up. For example, if we combine your beta blockers with sleeping medication, the combination of the two might lower your blood pressure too much."

Something about what he just said doesn't make sense. "I thought the less my heart was strained, the better."

Nurse puts the clipboard down at his desk and studies me for a few seconds. His gaze is piercing and I want to squirm. It's scary how he can let that aloof facade drop from time to time. Just those subtle hints make me truly want to never see this man's anger directed at me.

"The doctors who gave you your medication and instructions to take them. Did they ever explain why you were on those specific medications or what they do?"

"Yeah, they did."

"In small words?"